


The Sun Is Up, the Sky Is Blue

by prettyboyporter



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:49:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26823931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettyboyporter/pseuds/prettyboyporter
Summary: Steve and Billy have two choices of where to eat Thanksgiving dinner -- Billy chooses Murray and Alexei's. Alexei wants to learn everything he can about this first American holiday, and Murray gives Billy one of his infamous talks.
Relationships: Alexei/Murray Bauman, Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 47
Kudos: 209





	The Sun Is Up, the Sky Is Blue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [USSTrashBarge](https://archiveofourown.org/users/USSTrashBarge/gifts).



> Happy very, very belated birthday, Janna. I love you! 
> 
> There are a handful of Russian words in this fic that I used with the help of wrecked fuse, hokan, and zayac. Translations of these phrases are in the end notes. Thank you for your help, my Russian friends! Any mistakes are my own.

The quarry was cold that night. The deeper they went into autumn, the more the temperatures sank. Steve didn’t mind the chill, actually -- he looked forward to pulling out his sweaters and sweatshirts and heading down to Merrill’s pumpkin patch with the rustle of dried leaves underfoot. Summer days were fantastic, but he held no love for the sticky, sickening humidity of August. 

Halloween had passed, and as much as Steve enjoyed the weather, neither Steve nor Billy felt particularly spooky that year. Not after Steve had nearly died at the hands of Russians, and not after Billy had literally died and come back thanks to Dr. Owens. Any ideas of putting on costumes or watching monster flicks simply fell away with Steve telling everyone _we have plans_ , and they spent the night holed up in Steve’s new shithole apartment above Melvald’s gorging themselves on pizza and candy and watching reruns of Bonanza with Steve’s arm flung over Billy’s shoulders. 

With Thanksgiving coming up in a couple of weeks, though, Steve found himself daydreaming about turkey and the gravy boat. More than that, he was simply thankful that both he and Billy were alive and drawing breath, and that they found healing and love in their blossoming romance. 

He was ready to celebrate -- and, of course, to eat.

Steve took a long gulp from the bottle of whiskey and pulled his jacket a little tighter. “Thanksgiving’s in a couple weeks. I’m kinda looking forward to it this year.” 

Billy plucked the bottle from Steve’s fingers. “Yeah? Looking forward to sitting down to a warm family meal with Mom and Pop Harrington?” 

“Not home. They’re in Boca Raton. I thought you and I could go have dinner together somewhere. We have _options_.” 

Billy cocked an eyebrow and tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. It was growing back so nicely after they’d had to shave it in the hospital. “Options? What goddamn options do we have? Susan and Max are going to the Sinclair’s and I’m just not up for hanging around that many people right now.” 

“Is it because you can only tolerate me?” Steve asked, batting his eyelashes. 

Billy leaned over and kissed Steve’s cheek. “You’re lucky you’re cute, pretty boy. And yes. I can tolerate, like, three people at a time. Any more than that and I start to feel like I’m suffocating. Makes me want to bolt, being around that many people.” 

Billy shifted and pressed himself to Steve's side -- he caught a chill easily these days after his recovery. Steve leaned in tight and laid his hand on Billy’s thigh. “Well, we did get a couple of invitations. And both of them are small. Dustin said we could have dinner with him and his mom.” 

“Hm. Maybe.” Billy jammed his shoulder against Steve’s and Steve took the hint -- he threw his arm over Billy’s shoulder and Billy shuffled against Steve’s body. He was like a cat always seeking a warm spot. Steve _loved_ being Billy’s warm spot. 

“Or…” 

“Or what?” Billy said. He pressed his cheek to Steve’s, and Steve returned the pressure. 

“Goddamn you’re cuddly tonight. I’m so into this.” Steve squeezed Billy closer. 

“Or _what_ , Harrington?” Billy asked, impatience edging his voice.

“Well. We got another invitation, but this one is kind of. Like. It’s weird, okay?” 

Billy gestured _continue_ with his hand. 

“Murray Baumann and his boyfriend Alexei invited us out to their place in Illinois for dinner. It would be an overnight trip.” 

Billy pulled back and looked at Steve. “Alexei. The same Alexei who was recovering in the hospital with me.” 

“Yeah. You remember him?”

Billy nodded and took another drink. “Yeah. But I was kind of in and out of consciousness. He was shot, I remember that. Just when I started to spend more days awake than asleep, they discharged him. And I remember Murray visiting Alexei in the hospital and the two of them speaking in Russian. But their conversations weren’t like the other translators who would come and try to pry Alexei for intelligence. I could tell they were into each other even through the curtain. Their voices were so fuckin _soft_ for each other. Don’t need to speak the language to tell when someone wants to bone someone else.” 

Steve snorted. “I guess we weren’t the only ones who got together after nearly dying,” Steve said as he carded his fingers through Billy’s hair. 

Billy’s eyes grew soft, and he leaned forward to press his lips to Steve’s. 

Steve cupped Billy’s cheek and ran his thumb over the stubble, letting Billy take the lead. Billy teased his tongue into Steve’s mouth, a slow exploration instead of a scorching flame. He seemed to be in no hurry as he rested his hands on Steve’s thighs, lowering his kiss to Steve’s jaw before pulling back altogether. 

Billy returned to his spot under Steve’s arm. “So. Murray and Alexei. I haven’t said one word to either of them. How did we somehow get invited out to their place for Thanksgiving dinner?” 

Steve scratched his nose. “It kinda started with Mrs. Byers. She talks to Murray, like, almost every day. He asked after you -- remembers you being in the room with Alexei.”

Billy nodded and laced his fingers through Steve’s. 

“Mrs. Byers gave him my phone number after checking with me to make sure it was okay. He calls me about once a week. Says he’s just checking up -- but he put two and two together and figured out our relationship so he’s always trying to dish out advice. And I gotta say, I kinda like the guy. He’s really kooky. Kinda paranoid. Talks about conspiracies all the time. He makes me check the light fixtures in the room every time I answer the phone before he’ll say one word to me. He doesn’t trust the government for shit.” 

Billy grinned at that. “Okay. I might be able to hang with this guy.” 

“But it’s the way that he talks about Alexei that makes me like him. Like, he’s not afraid to let out little details to me about their relationship, and usually this guy is afraid to let out _any_ details over the phone.” 

“What kind of details?” Billy asked as he traced the seam of the inner thigh of Steve’s jeans. 

“Like. That Alexei is all fired up about his first real American holiday. He doesn’t count the 4th of July since he was shot and nearly died.” 

“Yeah that’s fuckin shitty. I can relate.” 

Steve huffed a laugh. “Murray thinks it’s _cute_. Alexei has already checked out every book in their library about it.”

“Dude wants to bone up on his American holiday knowledge. I see nothing wrong with this.” 

Steve pressed a kiss to the side of Billy’s neck -- an area that used to be covered up by curls before Starcourt, now visible all the time. It was a little salty, a little musky, and smelled faintly of cologne, and his hair smelled like hair product.The thought that Billy had taken time to apply a little cologne or throw a little mousse in his hair to get ready for Steve made Steve feel all kinds of warmth opening in his chest. 

“So we could go to Murray’s if we wanted. I’ll leave it up to you. Hendersons, Baumann’s. Or, neither. We could just sit at my place and eat. I know jack shit about cooking a turkey, but I could make us, like, Thanksgiving Hamburger Helper. I’m happy no matter what we do.” 

Billy was quiet for a moment. His blue eyes looked over the black water below as he mulled over the options. 

Steve enjoyed this version of Billy who had choices -- who could pick the direction of his life now that Neil had been out of the picture since late July. In only a few short months Billy stepped up to work at Sinclair’s Fine Dining as a chef, taking care of Susan and Max with his earnings. He fixed his Camaro in his spare time, fully restoring it, and enjoyed dishing out bullshit to Robin, who loved feeding it right back to him. 

And of course, there was Billy and Steve’s love, so new and fresh in the stage where all Steve could do was think about Billy’s hands on him. He’d popped a boner in more than one inappropriate place thinking about what they got up to in Steve’s bedroom. 

“But you don’t have to decide tonight,” Steve said as he kissed Billy’s neck again, feeling even now that his jeans were getting tight in the crotch. 

“No, I already know. I think I’d like to go to Murray and Alexei’s,” Billy said. 

“Yeah?” Steve asked as he kissed his way up to Billy’s jaw. 

“Yeah pretty boy,” Billy said, this time capturing Steve’s lips. “Let’s do it.”

~*~

“Name?” came Murray’s tinny voice through the intercom outside of the bunker. 

“Steve. Harrington.” Steve said a little too loudly. 

“Both of you.” 

“Are you serious? You asked us here for Thanksgiving, Murray. It’s cold out here.”

“Serious as a heart attack, Harrington. Look up at the camera.” 

They both looked up at the lens mounted above the door. 

“Harrington’s guest,” Murray said. “Identify yourself.” 

As soon as Billy opened his mouth the metal door swung open and Alexei stepped out, a smile beaming on his face. He shouted back over his shoulder and down the hall, “ _дурачок_ *, my little idiot, this is unnecessary. Let these boys in.” 

Alexei turned back to them, picked up Steve’s hand and shook it before taking Billy’s. “You are Steve,” Alexei said, “and Billy. Thank you for coming.” His accent was thick, and his smile was huge. Steve hadn’t seen Alexei since the hospital, and now that he wasn’t miserable-looking because of said hospital, he had one of the friendliest faces Steve had ever seen. 

“Thanks for having us,” Billy said as he stepped through the short entrance hallway and into the open bunker. “This place is a real shithole.” 

Alexei barked a laugh. “Yes! Shithole! I tell Murray we need reorganize and paint but he don’t listen. Murray put down metal detector, say hello to guests.” 

Murray was, indeed, holding up a metal detector in their general direction which he put down with a look of disappointment. “Harrington. Hargrove. I’ll trust that you’re not wired.” 

The distinct, heavy aroma of turkey filled the room. Steve’s stomach growled at the scent. “God that smells good,” Steve said. 

“He’s been at it all day,” Murray said as he placed glasses on the table and started to pour drinks. “I can’t cook to save my life, but Alexei-”

“-Been researched for days and make many phone calls to Joyce. I now know how to cook turkey,” Alexei finished Murray’s thought as he walked to the kitchen and opened the oven door to baste the turkey. 

Murray handed out the drinks when Alexei rejoined them, which smelled strongly of vodka. Steve expected nothing less, to be honest. “Happy Thanksgiving, everyone. Cheers,” Murray said as he clinked glasses. 

“ _За здоровье!_ ”* Alexei shouted as he tinked his glass to everyone else’s then took a hefty drink. He nodded to Billy. “And to you in specific. You and me, we make it out alive from that hospital. All odds stack against us, but here we stand.” 

“Here we stand,” Billy repeated, and toasted Alexei again. Just the two of them drank. 

Murray’s kitchen felt small and a little dated and dirty, but the booze, soft jazz, and feelings pouring off of Alexei and Billy, two survivors, made everything feel warm and cozy. 

Steve rubbed his hand over Billy’s lower back, and Murray gave a quick kiss to Alexei’s cheek. “And we’re all thankful for it,” Alexei said. 

“Go put your bag down in guest bedroom,” Alexei said. “Go get comfortable. Dinner be ready soon. I learn to make mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, and stuffing. Pumpkin pie is ready for later. When you leave, you be nice and fat with full stomach. Big like Hopper. Go. Murray and I will set the table.” 

As they started to make their way back to the guest room, Steve glanced back to see Murray pressing a brief kiss to Alexei’s lips before stealing a quick bite out of whatever was on the stovetop. The sight made some type of feeling flood through Steve -- something bright and happy and hopeful. 

~*~

“Not sure this is what he meant by get comfortable,” Billy said breathlessly as he looked down at Steve in the guest room. 

Steve popped his mouth off of Billy’s dick and looked up. “Want me to stop?” 

Billy threaded his fingers through Steve’s hair as Steve took Billy’s pretty dark pink cock back into his mouth. “I’m not complaining, pretty boy. Just wondering what got you on your knees the second that door closed.” 

It was driving for five hours with Billy’s hand on his thigh and driving through roads surrounded by trees bright with orange, red, yellow leaves. It was how they shared a cigarette and made fun of the same three assholes in rotation, telling their own inside jokes. It was how they carved pumpkins together, Billy carving one that said FUCK YOU on it. It was how Billy loved to talk about _The Golden Girls_ all the time when they were alone, and Steve never saw it coming that that would be Billy’s favorite show. It was how Billy liked to talk about basketball and football and was endlessly patient when it came to explaining how to do simple repairs on a car.

Billy was full of surprises -- he kept Steve on his toes, laughing, that sharp tongue coming back after being subdued those few weeks in the hospital. And seeing him standing with Alexei, another person who almost didn’t make it -- that shit made Steve grateful for Billy, grateful for his presence in Steve’s life, so the moment that Steve could drop to his knees and get Billy off that’s exactly what he did. 

But he wasn’t going to say that this second, not with his jaw stretched wide and Billy’s hard cock pulsing on his tongue, coating it with cum. Steve swallowed greedily and vowed he’d tell Billy all of that. Soon. 

~*~

Steve felt like his belly had grown several inches. He loosened his belt and popped the zipper to ease the discomfort as he felt stuffed and sated and pleasantly buzzed from the booze. Whatever research Alexei had done about cooking, it clearly had paid off with the swell of Steve’s stomach.

They ate, talked, joked, then revisited some of their shared trauma from Starcourt and the hospital, and the entire time, the vodka flowed. A couple of hours passed by -- Steve didn’t even realize it.

“You’re scared,” Murray said, his eyes a little glassy from the vodka. He was looking at Billy.

“The fuck I’m scared. I faced a pulsating, tentacled creature the size of Hawkins Library with my bare fuckin hands, dude. No way can you call me scared.” Billy’s eyes were bright with challenge. 

“No, not like that,” Murray said as he got up and started collecting empty dishes. “You’re scared of a different _kind_ of monster.” 

Billy swallowed hard. “Neil’s gone. He fucked off to Kentucky or some shit.” 

Murray made a loud incorrect buzzer sound as he continued to lift their plates. “Nope! Wrong again. Not that kind of monster, either.” 

Billy leaned forward over his slice of pumpkin pie. “The fuck are you talking about then?” 

Steve reached down and put a reassuring hand on Billy’s thigh. Billy clasped Steve’s hand in his own. 

“ _мой любимый_ ,”* Alexei said in a soft, pleading tone at Murray. 

“No, it’s okay baby, don’t worry,” Murray replied before dropping a kiss on Alexei’s forehead. He paused, standing near Billy as he lifted Billy’s dinner plate. “I’m talking about him.” He pointed at Steve.

Steve blinked, confused. 

Billy cackled. “Steve? A monster? Are you shitting me?” 

Murray dropped the plates in the soapy sink water and returned to the table before taking a big bite of pie, then continued, pointing his fork at Steve. “Steve’s not the monster. Not at all. Nyet. We like Steve. He’s what’s good in this world and in our lives. I think we even _love_ Steve.” Murray blinked at Steve as he said this. 

Billy’s eyebrows were frowned, but he remained quiet and slid his thumb over the back of Steve’s hand. 

“But that’s not the problem. The problem is. All. Right. There.” Murray pointed up toward Billy’s forehead with his fork. “You’ve got a wall bigger than the Hoover Dam holding you back from him. _That’s_ your monster.” He pointed at Steve. “And let’s face it -- you’ve had some trauma in your past. Your dad helped you build that wall, brick by homophobic brick. But then Stevie came along and poked holes in it, didn’t he?” 

Steve squeezed Billy’s hand, and Billy returned the pressure. 

“And now you find the entire structure is about to come crumbling down. Your _lovely_ father isn’t around to help maintain that wall, because he was its original designer and mason. That motherfucker brainwashed you. You didn’t think you could have a cute boyfriend who clearly loves you, did you? Didn’t think you deserved it? Didn’t think maybe you could build a future with him? Maybe even live together?” 

Steve glanced at Billy, who had about eight different emotions showing on his face. 

Murray leaned forward. “Well guess what. Your elder gay Uncle Murray is here to refute your father.” He pounded his fist on the table. “You _can_ have all of that shit. You’re young. Attractive. You have this boy who dotes on you. There’s no one in your way anymore to tell you you’re not worthy of it. You have years ahead of you to fuck up and make mistakes and then turn around to make them right. But if you walk away from this young man right here, you’re letting your dad win. Damn that dam.” 

“ _мой друг_ ,”* Alexei said, looking at Billy. “We both live. I get shot, you get poked like,” he prompted Murray for a translation, who supplied him with the word. “Poked like pincushion. But here we are. We have chance at love. So we take chance. We must -- today is Thanksgiving. We must give thanks. In Russia, I would get killed for loving a man. Here, people don’t like, but I’m not gonna die for it, so here I have boyfriend. You survive against odds -- now you get the boy. Otherwise, what is the point?” 

Billy looked shaken -- like maybe his foundation had just been rocked. He was silent for a moment, then looked up at Murray and Alexei. “Okay,” he said heavily, as if the word settled something deep inside of him. Maybe it was the last of that wall crumbling down. He brought their interlaced hands on top of the table. 

Murray smiled brightly. “Now, was that so hard?” 

“You’re kind of an asshole,” Billy said with no trace of meanness. 

“He is,” Alexei said with a laugh. “My little asshole.” 

“But was I right?” Murray said. 

Billy nodded. 

“It’s a curse to see with such clarity,” Murray said as he went to a side table, pulled open a drawer, and got out a pack of cards. “Now that that’s settled, Alexei hasn’t learned to play Euchre yet. Harrington here informed me that he taught you.” 

Billy smirked. “Learned enough so that we can beat Mrs. Byers and Hop without breaking a sweat.” 

“Ready to learn. I will kick everyone’s asses by the end of the night,” Alexei said. 

“Don’t be so quick, buddy. This game has like eight million rules and doesn’t fuckin make sense sometimes. It was bitch to learn,” Billy said as he took a drink. 

“I’m a scientist. I learn faster than he can create conspiracy,” Alexei waved his hand at Murray. 

Billy pointed his finger at Alexei. “He’s my partner.” 

“I must break you,” Alexei said to Murray as they switched seats. 

Murray said something in Russian which made Alexei laugh and say, “that a promise?” 

Murray and Steve won the first round, but Alexei and Billy came back to win the next two, claiming they’d just won the Cold War. 

Soon enough Steve found himself yawning widely. He and Billy said goodnight and made their way back to the guest bedroom. 

Billy snuggled up behind Steve, rubbing his hand over Steve’s belly lightly. The motion felt good after all of the day’s indulgence.

The lamp behind Billy glowed softly -- Steve knew that Billy wasn’t a fan of sleeping one hundred percent in the dark, and the small lamp served perfectly as a nightlight. It lit him from behind and Steve saw his face mainly in a silhouette. 

Steve reached out to touch the curls above Billy’s ear. “Did Murray piss you off, saying all that stuff to you?” 

“Nah. He was right about everything. And he was direct. I liked that about him.” Billy took Steve’s hand and pressed a kiss to each finger. The hum of the dishwasher made a faint background noise. Everything felt sleepy and peaceful. 

Steve didn’t respond -- he just closed the distance between them and kissed Billy softly. Too full and buzzed to take it any further, Steve passed out with his face pressed to Billy’s shoulder. 

~*~

Alexei wanted to play American football after breakfast because it was an American Thanksgiving tradition and he wanted to experience it all, even though they’d watched the Bears play yesterday. 

“Pass the pigskin? But this is a disgusting thing to say,” Alexei said as he threw the ball to Steve in the backyard. 

“Yeah well, it’s America. We’re gluttonous. We’re disgusting. Welcome to our country,” Murray said as he ran to tackle Steve. Steve did some quick footwork though and evaded Murray’s tackle, only to be hauled down around his legs by Billy. 

Steve turned around on the ground and Billy pulled himself level with Steve, kissed him there in the brisk morning air. 

Alexei wolf-whistled behind them. 

“Uh, excuse me,” Murray said. “Holding. Offence. Ten yard penalty -- that’s _you_ , Harrington, I’m talking to _you_. Stop manhandling my teammate like that. Is there a penalty for straddling the defence? Because there clearly should be a penalty for that.” 

Alexei began arguing with Murray in Russian and it all became background noise as Steve had flipped Billy only his back and straddled his hips. 

Billy’s curls were splayed over the grass and fallen leaves under him. He wrapped his hands around Steve’s thighs. 

“Move in with me,” Steve blurted. 

Billy’s mouth fell open. 

“Oh shit! No, wait to ask not like, demand. I meant _will you_. As in, uh, do you want to move in with me?” 

Billy lowered his eyelids. “Wake up with you? Every day? I think I can handle that, pretty boy.” 

Steve leaned down to press a kiss to Billy’s lips and said softly, “and I think I can handle having you in my bed every night.” 

Murray and Alexei’s argument had quieted into some sort of soft embrace on the other side of the yard. 

Steve helped Billy to his feet, and Billy went to shake Alexei’s hand, then Murrays. Steve followed suit. 

“Thanks for having us,” Billy said to Murray. “But, ah. I gotta get home. Got some packing to do.” 

Murray pulled Billy into a brief hug. “Good for you. You can have us over for Christmas.” 

“For sure,” Billy said. “Harrington makes some mean Hamburger Helper.”

**Author's Note:**

> *дурачок - fool, idiot (diminutive) 
> 
> *За здоровье! - a toast for health 
> 
> *мой любимый - my love
> 
> *мой друг - my friend


End file.
